November 2014:When I am struggling, friends sometimes say: “Go read your own blog!” Well, this past week has been a doozy of curve balls and losses. I recalled the blog below, from December 2010. I’m a bit embarrassed to share it, because it feels like I’ve been mostly depressed since then! Truth be told, the past 4 years have, indeed, been a severe string of betrayal, physical assaults, family hostility and loss. So, yes, I just went and read my own blog. Because this one – written in the midst of processing a trauma – is “Holly at her best.” Transparency, counsel, action, hope, resilience. Onward.
Thanks for reading. Love to you and all. OM Shanti.

When I was around 6 years old, my mom would drive my sisters and I to a farm outside of DC for horseback riding lessons. A few weeks into our series, a horse threw me to the dirt! I remember bouncing along the ground (I was a chubby little gal), standing up, brushing myself off, and getting right back on the horse – before my teacher or mom could give that standard warning, “If you don’t get back on the horse, you’ll never ride again.” At that young age, I instinctively knew that getting back on the horse was my only option.

So, as I navigate the “throws” of life – even those that take a longer recovery – deep down I know I’ll bounce back.

Reaching the close of 2010, I wish I could promise friends, students and readers that THIS IS THE LAST TIME I’ll share about the betrayal I experienced this past summer. I, myself, wish this will be the last time that I dredge up that pain in this blog. The positive? Each time I write about the pain, I inevitably write about the healing and growth.

Thankfully I’ve been programmed that way from a very young age!

You must know that you can swim through every change of tide. – This morning’s Yogi Tea bag message.

It feels like everywhere I turn these days, writers, teachers and songs are encouraging me to drop my guard and jump into life with abandon. I’d love to. And I appreciate the encouragement! But the truth is, I’m terrified.

Fears related to the summer’s emotional trauma (and its related past-trauma triggers) are bubbling up again for a few reasons. Lately I’ve received invitations to connect with human beings. (Go figure!) A little romance, some friendships. Gratefully, despite (or perhaps due to?) my history as a trauma survivor, deep in my heart, I adore humans, humanity and humanness. In addition, with 6 months between the summer’s emotional shell shock and today’s invitations, my trust in others is gradually reawakening.

So as new life beckons, I simultaneously feel like jumping in…and running away.

I have been taught – and so I believe – that there is great value in sharing about difficulty and the process of surviving it. Not just for my own release and rebirth, perhaps also for someone who has gone or might go through something similar. So here goes. And maybe, this will be the last time.

Who says I can’t be free
From all of the things that I used to be
Rewrite my history –
Who says I can’t be free?
– John Mayer

Falls from horses were not the only dangers of my childhood. My family household was chaotic and violent, driven by addiction and emotional illness. Through a certain age, I found solace in music and god. I wrote and performed songs (escape), often sang myself to sleep (comfort) and craved spiritual experience (protection). At the same time, I existed in a state of self-preservation and readiness – prepared for the sky to fall at any moment. Witnessing the model of my three older sisters, who frequently ran away from home, I kept a small night bag packed with pajamas and toiletries, in case I ever had to run.

Eventually, the false strength of self-reliance and isolation won out over the gentle support of god and music. I took care of myself and often had to play other family-members’ roles. I learned to construct elaborate lies about the screaming fights, ambulances, lateness to school and other troubles. And for relief from the hiding and responsibility, my own addictions kicked in by age 11.

My parents are not to blame. The inevitable fallibility of lineage shaped them as parents, and they did their best with what they had. As did my sisters, whose only choice was to protect themselves and therefore grow apart from each other and me. Although I was resentful toward my parents beyond my college years, I eventually grew to see the bigger picture, and soulfully love and appreciate Mom and Dad for all they offered.

I share this family background to illustrate how it informed my adult life. Self-reliance, isolation and addiction do not nurture “normal” maturity! Poor decisions led to dangerous situations and more trauma. My gravitation back toward spiritual reliance began around Easter of 1990 after I hit an emotional and physical bottom while living in New Orleans. That summer I would teach myself to meditate by focusing on one sense at a time. This was the beginning of my relationship with the present moment, with “what is,” and with inner peace.

Some believe we are here to work out our past karma.. i need to remind myself that karma is not punishment.. just consequence. – Ricky Tran, Yoga Teacher

For the next twelve years, I sought personal wellness – and to learn how to relate well with others. I continued meditation, started practicing yoga (yay!), used therapy, experimented with different religious and spiritual traditions, changed my diet and pretty much tried anything that might make me feel better. Despite my best intentions, I also continued manifesting different shades of the violence and chaos of my childhood.

Continued active addiction, associated behaviors and unaddressed past trauma cemented me in old patterns. Not until 2002, when I had a moment of clarity and sought help for addiction, did life crack open and truly begin to change.

Our December [2010] class focus is Abundance. I am sharing honestly about my past because for a long time, I felt ashamed of my journey of stumbles. Now I believe I have nothing to hide. And because of my own transformation, I have faith in every person’s ability to recover from the serious mistakes or conditions of their past. All it takes is the willingness to ask for help. Abundant growth is possible for all.

Today, all of my positive influences from the past 20 years work in-concert to encourage productive relationships, wellness of body, mind and spirit, productive relationships and serenity. At the same time, just like for everyone else on this Earth, life happens. Sometime life throws some curve balls. And sometimes we get hit by a pitch.

I was hit by a pitch this past summer. The man I’d been seeing for 6 months revealed something shocking that he’d been hiding. Not only did the lying hurt horribly, in addition, the nature of what he was hiding could have endangered my own well-being, and, it triggered much of my past emotional trauma. Sadly, I lost trust and love for everyone. I lived in fear.

Thankfully, the week before that bomb was dropped, I had emerged from a week-long Off The Mat Into The World training at the Omega Institute. The “Yoga, Purpose & Action” Intensive taught self-inquiry, collaboration and activation as tools for cultivating a more sustainable approach to service work. These became the exact tools that I used to trudge through the relationship shock. I didn’t run, I didn’t hide, I didn’t go back to addictive ways.

Despite the fear, I forced myself to reach out (ugh), and I got support (ahhh).

Always do what you are afraid to do. – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Poet & Essayist

At one point in the Fall, I was catapulted into an impenetrable state of anger and disgust after unexpectedly running into my ex. It broke my heart to harbor such negative emotions, when all I yearned for is to love and trust human beings again. I gained counsel with Father Tom Ryan – a Catholic Paulist priest and Kripalu yoga teacher – who was firm with me regarding solutions. He made concrete suggestions for ritualizing the transformation of anger/disgust into forgiveness/compassion.

While I was integrating those suggestions into my practices, I had a session with Somatic Therapist Lois Clinton, whose nurturing and skillful treatment awakened a sense of safety and trust. It’s hard to describe how Somatic Therapy works. In my experience, we identified certain grounding resources (i.e. deep three-part yogic breathing), constantly redirected to the present moment by working with open eyes (vs. getting stuck in the past with closed eyes), and discharged physically stuck trauma (i.e. vibrating hands, clearing lungs). It was subtle and yet powerful!

With the clarity from my session with Lois, I followed through with one of Fr. Ryan’s suggestions. I wrote a brutally honest letter to my ex – with absolutely no intention to send it. On the New Moon of Diwali, I burned the letter. Sure enough, as I watched the ashes and scraps of paper float down a swirling, swollen creek, the negativity was released, I felt a thousand pounds lighter, and the shift toward complete healing was profound.

I couldn’t be more grateful to all of the teachers, healers and advisers who stepped up to the plate to support me through this tough time. Decades of being willing and open toward these liberating processes have opened doors to immense transformation and emotional sobriety. When life happens, I am fortunate to have a huge tool box of resources, practices and people who support me through anything – from celebrations to disappointments.

Trauma is a fact of life; so is resilience. – Hala Khouri, Off The Mat Into The World Co-founder

Earlier I mentioned that there are a few reasons my fears were recently triggered. This week, I attended a spiritual gathering where the guided meditation was about forgiveness. Immediately, I acknowledged the potential risk of participating, and decided to stay anyway. The instructor asked us to recall an instance where someone hurt us…and then, to offer that person forgiveness. It was tough. I had to open my eyes to see I was safe, surrounded by (yes) trusted spiritual fellows. I could feel my entire body vibrating. Tears flowed. I wasn’t sure if I was forgiving or releasing. But I knew I needed to stay in the process.

Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try. – Ryan Bingham, Songwriter

This morning, I was struck with a note of sadness about the summer situation. I am grateful to say that, for the first time in months, I did not connect this morning’s emotion with all the sad traumas of my past. It was, simply and specifically, sadness about the loss of my relationship and how much it hurt to be lied to.

Regarding the fresh fears from social invitations…I am rigorously honest with each person, letting them know the shakiness I feel about connecting, particularly romantically. One day my heart will be ready to try again. I know that I must make myself humanly vulnerable again. I’m just not there yet. But I will be. I will bounce back.

You will not find a spiritual master that will suggest you play it safe, or a sacred text that advises you to avoid pain at all costs. – Max Strom, Yoga Teacher and Writer

To me, some “self-help” messages sound like the old idiom “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.” That harkens of my childhood of packed bags and lonely songs. But when I read firmly encouraging words like Max’s, I yearn so deeply for love, trust and emotional freedom that I cry.

Thank you gentle teachers and butt-kickers, skillful healers and wise advisers for the abundant encouragement, inspiration and motivation you have so generously shared throughout my life. You assure me that all experiences – throws, stumbles and curve balls of all kinds – are opportunities for growth.

You may have read my blog about Mom being my greatest teacher. I’ve re-posted it on her birthday, her death anniversary and Mother’s Day…

Why have I not celebrated Dad in a blog? The man has supported me – carried me, really – through so many things. Our bond is deep, and our love is strong. Particularly now…

It’s time.

* * *

Memory #1: I’m just a little kid, transitioning from taking baths, and learning how to take showers. I’m terrified of getting water in my eyes, and extremely sensitive to the cold. Our hot water heater is small; so short showers are essential – as is not using hot water elsewhere in the house while someone’s in the shower (i.e. doing laundry, washing dishes, simultaneously showering in another bathroom). It’s winter. I’m alone in the shower, and the water goes cold. I howl out in pain. Somewhere out in the house, I hear my father yelling at someone. Then the bathroom door opens – Dad to the rescue! He wraps me in a dryer-warmed, fluffy towel and sits me next to the heater, which he’s cranked-up to high. He leaves, shuts the door to keep in the warmth, and goes out to yell some more.

Memory #2: It’s summer. I’m probably about, oh, 8 or 9 years old. Dad and I are in the back yard, by the gazebo that he is building by hand, from scratch. He’s trying to get a nasty knot out of a piece of tangled rope. He’s failing and extremely frustrated. He growls, “Damn it,” throws down the rope, and stomps inside the house. Holly to the rescue! I pick up the rope, patiently un-do the knot, and take it to my father.

Dad & Mom, Happy, The Day I Left For College

Memory #3: As a pre-teen, I start to sense my father’s immense frustration with my mom’s alcoholism. And, having witnessed Dad’s grief when his sister – my beloved Aunt Jeannie – died from cirrhosis of the liver, I try to make my mom stop drinking. It’s Friday evening. The family is getting ready to go to synagogue for Sabbath services. My mom makes a gin martini to take with her in the car. I spill it out in the kitchen sink. She slaps my face. I sit next to my father in silence for the rest of the night.

Memory #4: In very early childhood, I overhear my parents arguing about money. My father says that, if I had not been born, they would not have financial problems. I would not recall this event – plus the fact that I was an unplanned child – until adulthood, during therapy. For most of my life, this “core wound” had subconsciously shaped my negative self-image as an unwanted problem, plus, engrained my own financial problems. My father is not at fault; he is not a bad person. Such fights are normal between parents under great stress of hardship. My father spoke out of frustration; and he didn’t know I could hear. The kicker? For decades during my own active alcoholism and through tough times in sobriety, my father would give me money (adding up to a great amount in total) – ignoring his own limitations, enabling my pattern of financial instability and reinforcing my “core wound.” Again – nobody’s the bad guy in this unfortunate twist of family dysfunction. The outcome? A bittersweet emotional and financial dependence that would leave both my father and me depleted…

Dad & Me, Nashville, Father’s Day 2013

Memory #5: June, 2013. I find out that my father has serious financial challenges. Having accepted so much from him over the years, I immediately blame myself. Although one of my sisters assures me that it’s not my fault, and encourages me not to take the blame, I still feel partially responsible. That Father’s Day, I visit Nashville to observe how Dad’s doing in general, and discover that his dementia is worsening. I decide that if my DC job search continues to yield rejections, I will move closer to help Dad with his finances and his life until he passes on. I move to Nashville in September – without savings, and without a job. I live on loans from friends while trying to secure work. Nothing materializes. While I spend time managing and improving my father’s finances, my own are crushing me with worry. Family dysfunction rears its ugly head, and due to irrational decisions beyond my control, I am legally removed from my father’s affairs. I return to DC to start from scratch…celebrating some victories on behalf of my dad, but completely broken, inside and out – and, heartbroken at leaving my beloved father.

These scenarios sum up Dad’s and my relationship – two people trying to save each other, amid a backdrop of historical family dysfunction, hardship and stress. Not the healthiest dynamic, we know.

Still, we love each other more than anything in the world. And love is rich with mistakes and forgiveness, imperfection and acceptance. Dad’s and my love is messy, for certain – but it’s our mess.

* * *

My father is my Super Hero.

He once blamed me for the family’s money problems. He enabled me financially for decades. And through his enabling, he rescued me from dying.

On Easter Day 1990, I floated around the French Quarter in a soul-shining haze of gratitude for life. Days before, I’d stumbled around my New Orleans neighborhood in a drug-induced haze from a botched suicide attempt – my 2nd in one week.

I’d become unemployable, and was spending most of my days in the same pattern: Wake up with a stranger and drink mimosas made with cheap champagne bought with my dad’s Exxon credit card. Make my way to the French Quarter, buying a quart of cheap tequila on the way. Sit on a curb, eat 7-11 sandwiches, drink out of a paper bag and listen to street musicians. At the end of the day, go drinking with the street musicians. Take one home. Wake up the next morning and start over.

Little did he know…my father was financing this debauchery. Had he not, I’d probably be dead. Despite living dangerously, I had my own apartment, control over its key, and, a car with gas in it and a phone in the case of emergencies. I had money for food, and money for booze. I didn’t have to ask strangers for help, and I didn’t have to live on the streets.

Still, I was clearly lost. And compulsively stuffing a lifetime of unaddressed trauma (results of family hardship and addiction-related events) into a tequila bottle did not remedy the internal self-loathing and defeatist thoughts. So I decided to give up. Twice in one week, I combined as many substances as I could buy and steal, and went to sleep hoping to not wake up – yielding failure both times. Apparently, suicide was not meant to be. The 2nd time, I resigned to stick around and spent the next 12 years seeking the desire to live. I would still drink alcoholically; I would still depend on my father’s money; I would still leave jobs, men, friendships; I would still jump all over the map trying to run from myself; I would still end up living at home at times; I would still battle with my internal negatives.

Simultaneously, new influences started to chip away at my self-reliance, avoidance and denial.

On October 22, 2002, at age 37, 12.5 years after that Easter awakening and six months after my mother died from complications related to alcoholism, I crawled into the rooms of 12-step recovery. I started to pick up the pieces of 26 years of active addiction, and began my current journey of holistic healing through yoga, recovery, therapy and other wonderful resources, responsible living, and, amends for past mistakes.

I called my dad that afternoon. “I just went to my first meeting,” I told him. “Good,” he answered, exhaling, with a tone of relief in his voice.

He did know.

* * *

Moving to Nashville meant the chance to pay a great debt to my father. Or so I thought.

Despite what happened – the financial ruin, family conflict and emotional depletion – I am grateful for those seven months (what I now call a “successful fact-finding mission”). In fact – due to all that happened, I had the opportunity to see the big picture clearly, to face the facts of my relationships with my siblings, to discover the reality of my father’s financial patterns, to redefine my relationship with him, to enjoy a major emotional breakthrough, and, to embrace a new way of thinking.

Those negative stories associated with my “core wound?” False. I am not an unwanted problem. The happy ending to this story? IT’S NOT MY FAULT.

Hitting my own financial, emotional and spiritual bottom during my attempt to “save my dad” actually saved me. So again, in a roundabout way, Dad rescued me. Had I never gone to Nashville to face his and my financial realities, patterns and mistakes, I would have never been freed of that debilitating “core wound.”

Amazingly, since planning my move from Nashville back to DC, I am no longer paralyzed by negative thoughts when trying to apply for jobs. I no longer feel a shameful, guilt-ridden debt toward my father. I know what I owe him – and that is LOVE.

Liberated, I have moved into a fresh, new phase, uninhibited by false beliefs that used to paralyze me and squash any chance for adult development. I am embracing life with more passion than ever, rediscovering true connections with friends, cultivating community in my beloved hometown…and…working my ass off!

Dad has always been my consistent source of encouragement, faith and unconditional acceptance. He’s been my champion, my cheerleader. I can’t tell you how many times he’s said, “Don’t let it get you down!” when the hard knocks hit. He has always, constantly told me how much he loves me, how much he believes in me. So now, when I call him to consistently report good news about work and life, he is thrilled.

I’m finally growing up.

* * *

Let me tell you how much one grows up while spending the prime years of adulthood drinking reality away: Not at all.Addiction leaves no room for personal and emotional growth. Today, at nearly 12 years sober, I’m still undoing old patterns, making up for past mistakes…and…committing new ones. The difference now? I am aware, accountable and willing to take action to change.

I typically don’t spend a lot of time defending myself, because I have faith in my character. Still, I will say this:

Some may believe that my father’s current state of financial woes and related issues is all my fault. Those people can have their blame game, their misdirected anger and their battles. I’ll take no part. I know exactly how I contributed to my father’s current condition; and I now know the other factors at play. I am not the problem. I am a daughter that shows up, that accepts responsibility, that would do anything for her father – just as he did for me. Over many years of feeling that I “owe him” for giving to me so freely, I’ve taken action to serve him however possible – by sharing life with him, cleaning and cooking during visits, spending quality time, and, showing my love for him in many ways.

I have grown to feel completely at peace with my sincere efforts, and plan to continue them, along with direct financial amends, as soon as I am able. I’m saying this here, now, with all as my witness.

And that, my friends, is the end of my explanation and defensivenessabout this issue. Let’s move on…

* * *

The Man Today, Relaxing, After 80+ Years Of Leaping Tall Buildings In A Single Bound

Have you ever noticed that, when the Super Hero swoops in to rescue the distressed victims, she or he never asks: “So, what happened, guys? Why are you in so much trouble?” That selfless hero just plucks ‘em up, no questions asked.

Over and over, my dad jumped into fires, hot water and quicksand to pull me out. He saved me – whether or not I deserved to be saved, and whether or not it was healthy for me…or him.

Someday I will tell you moreabout how my father positively influenced my life, my diverse cultural yearnings, my commitment to good health, my career direction and more. How he’s the guy behind my percussion talents, my yoga class music choices and my love for Washington, DC.

But the most notable way my father influenced my life? He once regretted my birth; and then he saved me from dying. And most recently – after seven months of tough truths, humbling honesty, stressful interaction and unconditional love…after coming full circle in our relationship and shedding old stories that no longer serve us – he reawakened my passion for life. Finally, I can absorb all those years that – in addition to supporting me financially – he heroically scooped me up, kept me warm and held me high.

I love you, Dad. More than I can express. You are, and always will be, my Super Hero.

(Note: I read this piece to my father before publishing it; and we cried together out of love and respect. He approved publication. Also Note: Whenever I write truthfully about my family, I always have to add: I love and respect my parents, and I love and respect my family. I understand that we all suffered – even historically, way before I was born. The ancestry of pain leaves a tough road to travel. We do our best.)

I once heard an elder in recovery share that, when consumed by great emotion, it’s essential to “stick a pin in it” by sharing. I’ve followed suit ever since. For me, to harbor negative emotions is to go toward a drink. As a recovering addict, to drink is to die. So, being open and honest is essential.

Particularly with anger or sadness, talking, writing and sharing about the situation decreases the emotion’s hold on me. I connect this tool to the yogic practice of Pratipaksha Bhavana – replacing negative thoughts with positive. After loosening the emotion’s grip on me (or my grip on it!), I promptly turn my thoughts to the Silver Linings of the situation. Not to deny the cause behind the emotion or stuff the problem, but, to free myself enough to handle the issue with more ease and peace.

You might say, “I’m not an addict. Why shouldn’t I let my feelings blow up like a balloon? I love stewing in anger, or, pulling the covers up over my head for a day.” Of course – it’s normal to feel intense emotion. And, it’s healthy to let it out – to release it constructively, with intentions to examine the cause and decrease its repetition. At this point in my 20+ years of practicing yoga, studying its ideology and experiencing its benefits, even if I were not an addict, I would definitely choose to address, process and neutralize my emotions. I have found that, in every case, the wise sages and yogis are correct: reaching a place of inner peace pays off personally, and, globally.

* * *

Today, I’m “sticking a pin” in a balloon of sadness: I had to cancel my Father’s Day trip to Nashville. Ugh.

I’ve spent every Father’s Day with Dad since my mom died in 2002. Having just unexpectedly returned to DC after abruptly “moving” to Nashville last fall, I really wanted to continue the annual tradition of seeing him for that special weekend. But the fact is, I cannot afford to miss work. I have one goal right now: to work my way out of debt. And that requires a very, very simplified lifestyle. Without baseball games, without dining out, without travel. With room for the unexpected and essential, like last week’s ER visit, a high-cost monthly asthma prescription, a replacement for a ruined shoe and an upcoming doctor’s appointment.

I could stew in self-pity over this! Poor me, poor me – pour me a drink. Or, I could process my sadness by feeling, honoring and sharing it…and then move on to the positives. And there are many.

Silver Linings of prioritizing debt reduction, and therefore, canceling my Father’s Day trip:
– Although I am sad about not seeing my father, I am very happy that I have steady work.
– Although my father will be sad about the trip cancellation, he’s very happy that I have steady work.
– By prioritizing debt reduction, I’m addressing my own financial responsibilities; and, I can help address my dad’s financial needs – which are stressed partially due to my past “borrowing” from him.
– Since returning from the Nashville family fiasco, I’m exercising more financial independence and accountability than I have in a long time.
– By cutting back on costly entertainment and leisure, I can spend quality time with friends (taking walks, hanging at the park, finding free events, and sharing tea and snacks at home) and be more mindful about my eating habits (cooking nutritious meals).
– I am learning to say “yes” when friends want to treat, which can be difficult; in the past, I’d rather fake an air of stability and go broke than accept a “handout.”
– I am appreciating simple self-care rituals, such as: meandering urban strolls, deep relaxation/Yoga Nidra sessions at home, and, winding down at night with a sweet treat, lavender foot rub and cup of Rasayana (warm milk with spices).

All of this cultivates a feeling of balance, contentment and ease – which in the end, are the most important outcomes of any situation. Because when I am ill-at-ease, I am adding to the world’s dis-ease. And when I am feeling peaceful, I am adding to the peace around me.

* * *

Again, I’m not saying that sadness is a bad thing. And I’m not saying that the cause of my sadness should be blindly replaced with random happy thoughts. By using the “stick a pin in it” tool, and, by practicing Pratipaksha Bhavana, I’m creating space to handle the problem with more gracefulness, and, to focus on the positives within it. Because every challenge has a Silver Lining, if I am willing and able to do the work to discover it – and most importantly, to step forward with its beauty.

So today, in concert with feeling natural sadness about not seeing Dad for Father’s Day, I’m also happily deflated, and gratefully shining.

Thanks for listening. May your emotions be deflated, and the Silver Linings grant you freedom to grow. OM Shanti.

“To put the world in order, we must first put the nation in order; to put the nation in order, we must first put the family in order; to put the family in order, we must first cultivate our personal life; we must first set our hearts right.” ~ Confucius

I have written and re-written this blog 1,000 times. In those drafts, I: shared the sad and messy facts about families dealing with aging parents; reprinted my raw and emotional Facebook mini-blogs from February and March, when family matters blew up in Nashville; proved myself right and damned myself for screwing up; expressed devotion, concern and love for my father. Trying to get to the bottom of my unrest about my time in Nashville and my decision to move back to DC, I have examined every confusing corner of the situation.u

As of today, I’ve been back in DC for exactly two months. A few intense Full and New Moons have passed. The spiritual books I’m reading, the yoga classes I’m taking, the life experiences I’m having – they all point in one direction. The mirror is being held up, and I am being invited to look myself in the eye. The universe has been scraping away and wearing me down – in the best way possible. It’s time for change, for good.

At 2:40pm EST yesterday, while I meditated for the New Moon peak, this statement consumed my thoughts, shook me to my core and erased my confusion:

I really must clear my heart of anything but LOVE.

Because in the end, the pain of harboring resentment in my heart is bigger than any original harm. So here, dear friends, is the final draft of this blog.

* * *

FORGIVE ME FACEBOOK; IT’S BEEN MORE THAN THREE MONTHS SINCE MY LAST BLOG POST…

One hour after posting my last piece, “Be My Valentine,” my life turned upside down. That afternoon, after a heart-liberating massage, I was glowing with positive energy toward life. Then…unexpected family matters began to abound. And I learned something very important: whereas I’d believed that I moved to Nashville to take care of my aging father until the day he died…I suddenly understood that I was actually visiting Nashville on an important fact-finding mission.

Relatively soon after posting that February blog, I left Nashville to move back to my hometown of Washington, DC. There was no other course but to throw up the white flag, trust that my father would be helped by others and return to the place that historically nourishes and restores me: my true HOME.

During and since my time in Nashville, I have felt angry, harmed, righteous and vengeful. I processed these feelings through my practice, and, with my dear friends and others close to me. I wrote about the situation on Facebook. Now, it’s time to let those feelings go, and, leave that situation in the past. And if the resentments surface again (because they could), I must vow to revisit and re-process them in privacy and with respect, and, in appropriate venues and constructive ways.

I exposed my family’s pain – and by doing so, I caused harm. My Urban Yoga Den page on Facebook is now free of all mentions of my family during those times.

This was a tough pill to swallow…a humbling reality to accept.

As I said, since returning HOME, my reading, my classes and my experiences have been softening my wall of self-justification for processing the family situation so publicly (i.e. family is a part of life, and the Urban Yoga Den talks about life; it’s my personal mission to not hide anything; the blog’s rigorous honesty is in service to others; and – ahem – it’s my retribution for being harmed). With that thin veil of “valid reasons” lifted, I finally saw what was beneath it: I’d been acting on an emotionally twisted mix of desires to be seen as right, to be seen as special, to be seen as healthy, to be seen as good…and also to be seen as pitiful. I wanted to be loved…and also to be outcast. Beyond that? I discovered my desire to “own” my father and to be the “best” daughter. Ugh, why? Because of the undying shame I feel about the debt I owe him, after decades of an unhealthy financial dependence.

And at the heart of all of these discoveries? The most important truth of all: I am terrified of losing my father. I love him more than anyone in the world. I always have.

* * *

“Unless we come to understand the self-defeating nature of our own possessiveness, we cannot stop making war.” ~ Pandit Rajmani Tigunait

When I read this sentence from “Why We Fight: Practices for Lasting Peace,” I immediately wrote “MY dad” in the margin. I realized that I’d wanted Dad to be “mine.” Forever. Much of the motivation behind my move to Nashville to help my father had come from an intense fear of losing him. Of course, there were so-called “noble” motivations, as well. For instance, my father had helped me emotionally and financially for much of my life. So, I wanted to give back more substantially than before – visiting a few times a year to clean, cook and hang out. Attached to that noble motivation, however, was an underlying feeling of shame, guilt and accountability to a great debt…which also led to the feeling that I had to be there for him, had to do the most for him and had to be the best for him.

It’s complex, I know. It’s family.

What rings true right now, however, are the negative results of my possessiveness. It drove my division with my sisters, it drove my defensiveness with Dad’s community and it even drove my own inner battles when feeling insufficient in serving him.

In his book, Tigunait reminded me, “Yoga simply says, ‘Remember, this whole world with all its objects has evolved from God and still exists in God. Every single object, every single aspect of this world is pervaded by God. Things of the world are given to you as gifts. Learn to enjoy them without becoming attached to them.’ (Isha Upanishad, verse 1)”

“Even people,” I wrote in the margin. My father is God’s gift. He’s not mine at all. Or anyone’s.

“The knowledge that we have these worldly resources at our disposal and yet we are not their owners will protect us from disputes and disagreements,” Tigunait assures. I believe him. I don’t want continued conflict with my family. So, through specific practices and resources, I’m learning to love my father without needing to possess or prove anything to anyone. And that includes transmuting my possessiveness into appreciation for the beauty we’ve shared, feeling gratitude for each current/present moment with him (even if on the phone or through the mail), and, believing that I always do my best in service to him.

It also means releasing my dread of saying goodbye.

* * *

“Love and tolerance of others is our code. And we have ceased fighting anything or anyone.” ~ from addiction recovery literature

I admit there is still a part of me that wants to prove – to readers, to friends, to community, to family, to everyone – that I am the good one, that I am right, that I am this or I am that. The fact is: this “I-am-ness” is what separates me from others, creates friction and ends up causing harm. Even saying that I’m bad, that I’m horrible, that I’m unforgiveable (because at times the mood can shift from self-righteousness to self-pity) results in the same separation.

Enough! I am what I am at any given moment, and what others think about me is truly beyond my control and none of my business. Only I must sit with myself and know myself. And in the end, if I truly want to cultivate inner peace and therefore spread peace around me (Ahimsa – non-harming – the essence of all my yogic practices and life intentions), then right/wrong and good/bad cannot matter at all.

Tigunait’s book speaks of world wars. For me, it relates to my own internal, interpersonal and family battles. It’s all the same. Societal wars evolve from individual toxicity. “These subtle problems,” he says, “can be solved neither through political negotiations nor with sermons. They are the subtle causes of our external catastrophes, and the only way to overcome them lies in applying spiritual tools and committing ourselves to the disciplines that lead us to self-transformation. … Such a thing can be done. It requires courage, tolerance, forbearance, endurance, and a total commitment to practice the philosophy one professes… The great scripture, The Bhagavad Gita, says, ‘Peace is priceless. Attain peace at any cost.’”

* * *

I crave LOVE. And so I must choose LOVE whole-heartedly.

For decades I failed to live with any principles at all. Presently, thanks to the 12 steps of addiction recovery, the 8 limbs of yoga and additional positive influences, I’ve not only established values; I do my best to live them. I still fail at times. I own, examine and aim to mend my past and current errors. I am human. That’s all I can do.

In one of my March Facebook mini-blogs, I said that I was “burying my wars,” and I meant it. No more family battle tales – they would only feed the cycle of pain. With some space and time between what happened during my seven months in Nashville and this present moment, I can now focus on the silver linings, the lessons learned and the immense personal growth.

It’s time to take the lessons learned in Nashville and apply them to my renewed life, back in my beloved hometown of DC. I have plenty of opportunities to practice healthy “family dynamics” with my friends, new co-workers and community members! Our goal may be to build love and trust, to serve a business mission, and/or to create safer neighborhoods.

OMMM…
May we be protected together.
May we be nourished together.
May we work together with great energy.
May our study together be enlightening.
May there be no hatred between us.
OM peace peace peace.

The rich stories, ideology and practices of yoga can provide a framework for positive interactions and outcomes. This yogic prayer has been a fixture in my daily practice for months now. Sometimes I would leave a recording of it on ‘repeat’ and listen to it softly all day and night. It helped decrease my upset about family matters in Nashville, it helped through my transition back to DC, and it helps in my renewed life with its very normal interpersonal challenges. Coming from this past year’s bumps and bruises, my fears of being harmed and/or of losing something valuable can make me hyper-sensitive at times. Hah, go figure – this work is still at the roots of my greatest growth. Thankfully, I’m HOME, where my “family-of-choice” is cheering me onward and upward. After rising from the fire of my Nashville experience, I feel stronger than ever, and ready to keep growing.

In my ideal “family,” there is honesty, openness, acceptance and support. There is hardship, challenge and pain. Discomfort and willingness coexist – as do care and anger. Together, we protect, we nourish, we work, we study, and above all, we LOVE.

Thanks for reading – and, thanks for being part of my family. OM Shanti.

It’s amazing how far from my own heart I can wander. And not even know. Until a massage therapist hunts me down and kindly reunites us.

“Come back to your heart, Holly.”

The heart does not go anywhere! It’s right there, in my chest; it’s right there, with my head; it’s there, around and within my home; there, all over my entire life. ‘Tis I that roams far, far away. So far that, when I look back, all I see is a wall on the horizon.

My chest, arms, elbows and hands are still tingling from today’s massage session – when my heart and I were reintroduced. “I remember you,” I said. My heart just smiled and wiggled its way into my rib cage. “Please don’t worry if I cry,” I told my brave therapist. The sobs came. Sobs lingering in the physical memory of my oldest heart breaks. Sobs freshly stifled during the management of today’s repeatedly broken heart.

* * *

My father’s mind is failing. And my heart is falling to pieces. To stay on track with the tasks I handle for him? All I can do is leave my heart behind. To appear strong and able? I stray away from the feelings and get lost in the to-do lists.

This approach to “managing” emotions is definitely taking a toll. That wall on the horizon can feel definitively divisive at times. Yet I remain devoted to my yoga, my Chakra work and my meditation, which – at the very least – keep me aware and open.

My outdoor practices rock my world.

Standing firmly near frozen swampy ground with the sun shining on my face, I inhale and envision my stability on this earth (1st Chakra), my fluidity in water (2nd) and my powerful inner fire (3rd Chakra). I exhale and ask nature: “Please take away anything that impedes the integrity of my roots (1st), relations (2nd) and identity (3rd). Thank you for taking this from me.” Eventually, I feel an empowered foundation from my feet, into my legs, up through my hips and pelvis, and into my belly.

Then, I move into the heart (4th), throat (5th) and brow point (6th). I stretch my arms out to the sides and inhale, “May my heart be filled with faith; may my voice be filled with love; may my mind be filled with clarity.” On the exhale, I envision the faith, love and clarity being shared with the world. I might close the practice with a few OMs, or, with some quiet time to simple observe what arises within.

I am grateful for my willingness, commitment and action toward self-care and wellness practices. I stick with these routines despite my feeling of overwhelm from the seemingly insurmountable responsibilities I hold. Therefore, rejuvenation and healing are always accessible.

If I was not able to feel my heart awaken during a massage session, there’d be a big problem.

* * *

When I came home from today’s appointment, I found a Valentine’s Day card from my dad in the mail. The man does not miss a beat in certain areas. I am thankful for the days when he is clear, present and able. I am grateful for the days that I am patient, tolerant, compassionate and kind.

But loving? My god. It’s been a long time since I have felt “loving” toward my father. Certainly not because I don’t love him! Lord knows, he was my superhero growing up, and became my best friend in adulthood. I relied on him more than a grown daughter should (although some say it was a completely normal amount of enabling that he lent me…).

And now I’m trying to show up for him. My dad. The love of my life.

So, to get through the times that his memory loss saddens me horribly, or his demented lashings hurt me deeply, I turn off “loving daughter” and turn on “responsible adult.” To get through frustrating interactions with the institutions and people related to his troubles, I replace “emotional family member” with “Power of Attorney.”

I become exhausted and depleted. My heart fades further into the distance. And I’m not sure how long I can last like this.

I’m falling. Again. I don’t think I got the job that I wanted. Or the other one, that I wanted just as much.

I’ve been falling a lot since moving five months ago. I left my beloved hometown of Washington, DC – and long-developed communities of love, support and stability – to be closer to my aging father in Nashville, TN. And it’s been hard.

Without getting into all the details, I’ll summarize: financially, materially, physically, emotionally, spiritually…I am facing the hugest challenges I’ve ever encountered. I am more unstable and insecure than I have ever been in my entire 48 years of life.

And yet, most of the time, I’m smiling.

“In Tree Pose, it really is important for you to make a practice of falling over with a smile. Because it’s not so much about whether or not you can stand on one leg. It’s about what’s happening in your thoughts right now while you’re doing this, and if you can have some say about that. Can you just be lighthearted enough in this moment to fall over like it’s no big deal, regardless of everything else?”

Thank god for yoga. Thank god for 12-step recovery. Thank god for wise guides and teachers. Thank god for my willingness to listen, absorb, act, practice. Thank god for the innate understanding that – by taking my yoga practice off the mat, my 12-step principles out of the rooms, and, my mentors’ suggestions into my life – I have infinite resources for surviving tough times, which gradually transmute into a state of thriving and serving.

Sometimes I think that the more I fall over, the more easily I surrender, accept and reach contentment. The more easily I smile despite the bumps and bruises. Smile and go on.

“The idea is, every time you do a tree pose practice, you make it about summoning this mental framework where you can fall over and smile like it’s no big deal. On good days and bad days, and when you’re falling over a lot, or when things are good or bad, over time…you’ll get better at having that mental framework. Having lightheartedness, even when things aren’t going the way you want them too. And that’s a really valuable skill. More valuable than being able to stand on one leg, for sure!”

Thank god for those mornings when I wake up with a worried mind, knowing that I haven’t heard from potential employers, don’t have next month’s rent, and don’t have what I need to thrive. Thank god for those days when I ask god, “What do you want from me? What am I doing wrong? Do you even exist?” Those times when, for three hours after my sunrise alarm rings, my brain is occupied with doubt and questions. Those days when I frustratingly go back to sleep, over and over. And then finally…FINALLY…put my feet on the floor and do the next right thing.

Today, that thing was putting on J. Brown’s Yoga DVD. This morning, I did the complete practice for the 1st time since Winter Solstice, when a DC friend mailed me this wise and knowing gift.

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING OR BE ANYTHING. YOU CAN REST.”

Despite five months of living hell, I am taking care to take care. By putting my wellness first, I have the health and energy to show up for my dad, for my family, for my community. And, hours, days and periods of great effort during this demanding phase of life – I rest. I allow myself longer hours of sleep, unstructured time in nature, restorative deep relaxations.

“Let your breath come in and out all by itself. Your body surrenders to gravity and the floor. The effort that you’ve made on regulating your breath and your body is relinquished. And then…all the effort that you’re making in your life, jobs and apartments and relationships. All of it. It can be relinquished. You can have some time to lie here, where you don’t have to do anything and you don’t have to be anything. And maybe…just existing, you would observe – or at least just entertain – the notion that it’s inherently worthwhile.”

“THE FACT THAT YOU’RE HERE IS A PROFOUND MIRACLE TO BE CHERISHED.”

This statement at the end of J. Brown’s guidance into deep relaxation really made me smile today. Because there’s only 0.02% chance of my being alive today. I was conceived after my mother had a tubal ligation. And despite their financial pressures and familial problems, my parents chose to have and keep me. In addition, as a recovering alcoholic who was active in my addiction for decades before getting sober 11 years ago, I could and should have been dead a million times.

I needed that reminder this morning.

If I ever doubt my existence (or god’s), I need only recall how many falls (falls that started even before I set foot on this earth) it’s taken for me to reach where I stand today: alive, resilient, sober, awake, responsible, able.

Smiling.

Oh my gosh – I always laugh at myself when I fall out of poses! (Yes, I’m that giggling goofball in the room.) I invite you to give it a try!

And now, back to the job hunt. Thanks for reading. And smiling. OM Shanti.

“OUR TIME ON THIS EARTH IS SACRED,
AND WE SHOULD CELEBRATE EVERY MOMENT.”
~ Paolo Coelho

This morning I am saying goodbye to a treasured DC friend, Sovani Meksvanh. Since before Christmas, I have been posting on my personal and Urban Yoga Den Facebook pages about his battle with late-stage cancer, and how touched I’ve been by his balance of strength/action and acceptance/surrender. Last night, I posted my final thoughts about this beloved soul…

* * *

ON SOVANI’S PAGE:

I know that Sovani is not reading this, but his beloved family is. Your father/son/brother has always been a very special being to me. I will never forget our first social outing. Somewhere around 2005, he hustled up and down the ramps of RFK Stadium at one of the 1st Nationals games, taxing the heck out of his lungs, and putting up with my crazy baseball fandom the whole day. Over the years I’ve seen him help dozens (if not hundreds!) of people who are in recovery…from many different “ailments.” He is, to me, the perfect example of a Spiritual Warrior – one who shows up for life and all of its trials knowing that his Higher Power has simply sent him to live out a purpose more significant than his own human will, to strengthen from that ultimate surrender, and to use that strength to be of service to others.
All this time, over the past few weeks, I’ve never “cheered him on,” encouraging him to fight. Not because I want to let go of him, but because I want him to let go of fighting – I’ve wanted Sovani to give himself a break. And then there was a point where he started writing about feeling safe in His hands, and I exhaled so profoundly, knowing that Sovani finally melted into the care of his HP instead of fighting so hard…
Well, that’s how I perceived it. And it helped me so much, to observe what I saw as pure surrender and devotion.
I have been meditating and praying and crying and loving for weeks…and all of this is a tiny fraction of the support and commitment and effort that you have offered him, consistently and honorably. What an amazing family you are. I send my love and my comfort from Nashville…I wish I were there…

FROM MY PAGE:

I dedicate this song (Te Extraño by Marta Gomez) to the strong spirit of my dear friend in DC, Sovani, whose cancer battle I’ve been writing about since before Christmas. His condition has worsened – since Saturday, he has been on life support, and today his organs started to fail.Bless his beautiful young daughters, mother and family members who have been by his side through this journey, and updating us on Facebook the entire time – which to me, has been precious, since I moved away from DC in September. Despite the weeks of meditation, prayer, tears and love in his honor, I am feeling a bit useless. And I miss him. I wish I were there…Bless Sovani, who – as everyone knows – has been the strongest fighter one could ever meet. I mean, he was diagnosed with cancer 17 years ago, folks. And all along, he has insisted on, taken risks with and surrendered to the most experimental and progressive treatments available. But the surrender that impressed me the most was over the past week or so, when Sovani started posting about his surrender to the loving care of his Higher Power.

But I miss youIt’s been so many days that words and voice have been confusedAnd sounds still can’t speak of your loveYou can’t imagine the melancholy that creeps into my window when you’re not hereAnd the silence that obliges me to remember.So many years of living all of my life with you, so much time, so much space for you.How long must I wait? How many visions must recur…to feel you in an embrace…and to not see you grow old?

* * *

What could I add to that today? Hmmm…one thing. I am in the midst of a new phase of adult life, having moved to Nashville from DC to be closer to my soon-to-be 86-year-old father, who is struggling with dementia and increasing physical challenges. I am also deepening my relationship with my sister, from whom I was separate for decades, due to my addict lifestyle. As most of you know, I have now been clean and sober for more than 11 years. And thankfully, over the past few years, my sister has graciously invited me back into her life. She lives a bit south of Nashville, and we are teaming up to support Dad. So, this new phase is not always comfortable – but the three of us are doing our best.

My biggest challenge during this new phase of adult life? Dwelling in and acting from love and faith.

And so, to Sovani and his family, I say: THANK YOU.

Image: Journey to Peace

I am grateful to Sovani and his family for Facebook-ing their journey over these recent months; I am grateful to Sovani for always sharing about his family so lovingly; I am grateful to have witnessed the gracefulness and transparency of his daughters as they navigated this process; and, I am grateful to Sovani and his family for sharing about their Faith so openly. I have learned so much from all of them; and I thank them for teaching me the best way to step forward in the journey with my own father.

With this family’s example as my inspiration and motivation, I shall aim straight and high to celebrate every moment of this sacred life.

From Sovani’s family this morning: “After careful and thoughtful consideration of the medical team’s advice, the Family has decided to remove Sovani from life support to relieve him of needless pain and suffering. God Almighty, Our Father in Heaven, Creator of the Universe please forgive his sins and receive his Gentle Soul into Your Arms.”

* * *

This is my 1st formal blog since before September, and my move from DC to Nashville. The intensity and quantity of challenges that have arisen over these five months prompted me to use Facebook more often, for briefer and more expedient updates. So much has happened since September. Sometime in late Fall, I drafted an update blog called “Shalom, Y’all.” But it fell to the wayside as more important priorities – my job search, my care for dad, my general adjustment to TN and my grieving of my beloved DC – took precedence. I didn’t realize that grieving a long-time friend would also become a priority.

I am posting “Surrender, Recovery and Death” on my Urban Yoga Den blog, because I like to pass on spiritual lessons as they happen in my life. Plus, there is so much yoga in the story of Sovani’s dying days…

In Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, “Isvarapranidanani” (there are many alternate spellings) is the 5th virtue discussed in the 2nd limb of yoga. The 2nd limb, or “Niyama,” suggests 5 ethical values to follow if one wants to live the yogic life. “Isvarapranidanani” has been described as “surrender of the self to God,” “offering everything to the Lord or to Humanity,” “sacrifice of all to the Lord”… You get the picture.

I yearn for this kind of surrender. I know it would help me when I feel frustrated with and harmed by my father – who can be quite hostile due to his illness. I know it would help me when I feel scared of losing my dad. I know it would help me when – due to such heightened vulnerability from the move, from my lack of sustaining work, from my family situation – my old core wound of being a problem rears its ugly head while dealing with my father, my sister, and others in my life…causing me to react like a threatened child.

When I look back at the peacefulness and grace that Sovani and his family portrayed through their process, I am compelled to reach deeper into my own soul for the surrender that I crave…or, should I be reaching more widely beyond my own self for that surrender? More will be revealed.

From experience, I do know this – like the 12 Steps of recovery programs, the 8 Limbs of yoga are in order for a reason. And for me, there have been many parallels in my practice of both the Steps and the Limbs.

So in this case, if I want to access the surrender I seek, I must re-commit to study and practice of Limbs 1 & 2 – the Yama and Niyama (the 10 suggested virtues). And, I must broaden that commitment to include Limbs 3-8…a process of reaching my most ideal way of living, which includes: Asana (poses), Pranayama (breathing exercises), Pratyahara (regulation of the senses), Dharana (single-focused concentration), Dhyana (meditation) and Samadhi (“enlightenment,” or in my own simple terms: when my actions and behaviors portray the intentions and virtues that I have been aiming for since Limbs 1 & 2).

I must also energize my commitment to integrating the 12-Steps into my daily life. As Step 12 suggests, I aim to practice the program’s principles in all of my affairs, in order to carry a healthy message and be of service to others.

Photo: Sovani Meksvanh(I loved his shameless selfies…especially these, while I was so far away.)

And so today, I am saying out loud: I re-commit to the deepening of my spiritual practices, so I may replace my fear-based reactions with a god-based surrender, faith and love…and therefore, act toward others with love and in service.

Let’s see how that goes (she says with a slightly mischievous, quite human and very forgiving smile)…

I’ll close with another timely parallel between the tools of yoga and recovery:
In his commentary on the Niyama (yoga’s 2nd Limb and collection of 5 virtues to observe), Sri Swami Satchidananda says: “All spiritual life should be based on these things. They are the foundation stones without which we can never build anything lasting.” And, in the two primary texts for 12-Step recovery, Bill Wilson and his co-writers say: “There is a direct linkage among self-examination, meditation and prayer. …when they are logically related and interwoven, the result is an unshakable foundation for life.” And, in relation to the 3rd step, which invites me to turn my will and life over to the care of god (and I’d say that’s the surrender I’m seeking!), “…this concept was the keystone of the new and triumphant arch through which we passed to freedom.”

I am grateful for both of these influences on my life, and that they both led me to a very significant relationship with an amazing man named Sovani. May god bless you and keep you, my friend. Love love love.

* * *

HAH! In true Holly fashion, I just spent the morning side-stepping my grief…expressing it in a very structured and intellectual manner…writing, quoting, analyzing, learning, sharing… And later, I’ll read everybody’s loving and honoring posts on Sovani’s page.

NOW, in true honor of Sovani and my relationship with him, it’s time to get messy, surrender to my heart, and let the tears flow (oh, god – even as I proofread this piece – here they come)…into music and nature I go.

Thanks for reading. And thanks for your love. OM Shanti.

{PS – Please forgive WordPress for posting inappropriate advertising at the bottom of my posts…I can’t afford to upgrade, and they need to survive!}